


Agelast - Gargalesthesia

by williamTspears



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, pre-retirement Undertaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2197881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamTspears/pseuds/williamTspears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Agelast</b> - noun - A person who never laughs.<br/><b>Gargalesthesia</b> - noun - The sensation caused by tickling.</p>
<p>(drabble prompt response. UTWill if you squint slightly. Author recommends doing so.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agelast - Gargalesthesia

The Legend picked his juniors, on the very rare occasions he did take one on, according to the potential he believed they held.  
He had never been wrong so much as once, as those he trained always ascended the ranks of Dispatch with ease.

What he did not account for, however, was personality.

Or lack thereof.

But he had never once had a junior so frustratingly uptight as this one. Now, the Legend took his job seriously, and he full well understood and respected those who could follow the rule about working seriously and without so much as a smile, that was just being a good reaper. But those who could not relax off the clock had a problem. Couldn’t relax; couldn’t release stress.

So sometimes, he would make a game of getting his less flavoursome juniors to loosen up a bit, for their own good.

But this one…

He had tried all manner of humour, from terrible puns, to stories of the absurd, all the way to base crude humour of the bodily sort, but this one…

William T. Spears simply would not laugh, no matter what his senior tried.

He wasn’t even ticklish, the Legend had noted in abject disappointment, as the man had no reaction to being prodded in any of the usual spots. Armpits, neck, sides, he’d even tried the backs of his knees. Couldn’t get at his feet.

The man had all the personality and humorous potential of a bowl of soggy oatmeal, and it was _maddening_.

Trying to get this man to laugh was like trying to scratch a deep itch that wouldn’t be satisfied, and its relief came as a complete surprise.  
He hadn’t even been aiming for what he’d achieved, elbowing the other in the small of his back to get him out of the way. Rather than the expected silent acceptance, he received a rather un-masculine squeak in response.

It was all of two seconds before he’d set his current task aside and started poking around to find that same spot, against weak protest.

He received his prize in the form of a noise that could perhaps be considered a laugh, but also perhaps not, when he had slipped his hand up William’s jacket and dug his knuckles in.  
His junior had arched his back in a most undignified fashion, and made that noise. The Legend couldn’t put his finger on exactly _what_ that noise was, but whatever it was, he _liked_ it, and he cooed in delight at the other’s wriggling.

Against further protest, and his own better judgement, he continued in hopes of eliciting more of these wonderful new noises.  
Of course, even the most patient will only endure so much, and quite quickly he was facing more resistance than a pleading ‘stop, sir, please’.

The retaliation was swift and well-aimed, and the Legend was soon met with deft fingers wriggling their way into all his most sensitive spots.

This resulted in him collapsing in laughter under the assault, as William’s revenge lasted a good five minutes until he relented.

"We are on the clock, sir, I believe we should keep focus on our duties."

The Legend had what he wanted, sweet relief from that maddening itch to hear his junior laugh, so he wasn’t going to argue.

For now.


End file.
